stolen soul, sick butterfly, wild hurricane
by crimson and bare
Summary: In the Department of Mysteries, Ginny accidentally locks herself in a cursed room that sends her to relive the time that haunts her most. However, she doesn't wind up in her first year at Hogwarts; she finds herself in Tom Riddle's fifth. And, above all else, it seems that once you pour your soul into someone, it's very difficult to retrieve it. Ginny/Tom.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is unlike anything I've ever written. I was just reading _The Chamber of Secrets _and it popped into my head.

She runs.

Ginny is panting, gasping, choking for breath. She feels like she's being strangled by the invisible grasp of her own lungs. Her stamina is sky high after all of her time playing Quidditch, and stuck in a house surrounded by brothers, but she's been pursued for what feels like ages. One stumble, one little fumble that would only mean dropping a quaffle in Quidditch could steal her young life right out from under her. Death Eaters aren't notorious for playing fair.

She rounds a corner, seizing a metal pole to increase her velocity. After a quick spin around it, she jolts out, running into a more twisted hallway. How the hell did she get separated from the rest of the DA so easily? She's berating herself in her head for being so damned stupid. Too daring. That'll be the end of her. Ginny gasps once and opens a door.

A moronic move, perhaps, when every door here seems to have an unspeakable horror behind it, but she slips through anyway. She slams the heavy oak behind her, resting her back against it. An intake of breaths, her pulse slowing at a soothing rate. She can hear them bickering outside, violent and loathing. They want her dead.

Finally, she looks around, studying her surroundings. It's dark, shadowy and empty. She walks forward, one hand resting gently on the door. Eventually, she breaks free of it and walks deeper into the abyss. The floor declines, depressing into some unseen hole.

"Lumos," she breathes, raising her wand to eye level.

She glances around and sees writing on one of the walls. Cautiously, she walks to it, finally tuning out the sound of the Death Eaters. Ginny walks over to the wall and reads the writing softly, "Enter now and find your dream, something haunting, tearing you at the seams. A time in the past that makes you shake, if this pathway you decide to take."

She steps back from it, glad she isn't going down there. Every piece of her essence knows it would send her back to some awful time in her past—being bullied by her brothers, her first year at Hogwarts, when Percy walked out on them. The possibilities are limitless.

Then, the door breaks open. Not two but _three _Death Eaters enter, curses flying. Ginny stumbles back, firing at them blindly. And then she slips.

And then she is torn through space and time, ripped at and slashed by some unseen force. She screams and howls, but it seems like she can't make a sound. All that happens hurts her head and bruises her mind. She can see colors, a myriad of colors in all sorts of shades she never imagined. Beautiful, bold, terrifying.

Then, she feels an icy plunge and gasps. She hits her head on a tree stump, her hand rushing to her forehead. She coughs, chokes and splutters for a moment before looking around. The surroundings are recognizable—the Forbidden Forest back at Hogwarts. It looks just as it does to this day, so she can't imagine that she was sent back in time. There was probably some kind of portkey in there. A portkey she didn't have to hold. Something like that.

She rubs her lower lip—a little blood is streaked on her thumb. Her first inclination is just to wipe it on her robes. She can hear her mum in her head, "Ginny, here's a napk—or just rub it on your robes. Go ahead. Your mother needs more work to do..."

She cracks her knuckles and stands up, ready to kick danger's ass. Tossing her flaming ginger hair behind her back, she walks through the haze of trees.

It doesn't take long to make it out of the rough of the forest. She's dancing in the direction of the future, prepared for what life holds in store. Prepped to help Harry and defeat Voldemort and do this and that. Nothing can stop her, human or inhuman. And then she reaches the Whomping Willow. Or—where it should be. The landscape is completely void of a twisted, half-sentient tree.

She chokes on her own saliva. Ginny is great at taking whatever life throws at her—but she thinks she might be about to faint. It's evident that she went back in time. However, not to a time she can remember. As long as she's been at Hogwarts, the Whomping Willow has been looming in the distance.

Ginny bites her lip and hesitates, wondering if she should just run back to the place in the forest where she showed up. But she knows she has to face this—and possibly punch it in its own face. She walks forward and onto the Hogwarts campus. She can see people walking around, milling about, talking, studying and eating. None of them look familiar. She doesn't see Katie Bell, Seamus Finnigan, Luna, Parvati, Neville, Morag, _anyone_. They all are utterly unfamiliar—with rather outdated haircuts if she may say so herself.

She walks hesitantly into the thick of things, thankful she's still wearing her school uniform. It hasn't changed in the past few hundred years. No one even pays any mind to her as she wanders between them, making her way towards the castle. Her anxiety is rising as she starts contemplating what could exactly come with this, just what will happen. She's a headstrong person with a heavy dose of ginger rage. But time travel? No hope of escape? No idea where she is? She has no idea what to do. And she hates it.

Ginny walks towards the entrance—the huge doors towering over her. It should feel comforting, just as Hogwarts always does, but right now it's dreaded. Everything could be different behind these doors. She is walking up to them when she runs into someone. A Slytherin. Great. They've always been her best friends.

"Are you new here or something?" he asks, stepping in front of her.

Flaxen-haired, muscular, a bored expression. There's something eerily familiar about him. Ginny supposes he's a Death Eater now or something.

"Sort of?" she suggests, strangely hesitant.

He stares at her blankly for a moment.

"Funny." He doesn't seem entertained by it; more disturbed by it.

She feels flustered, unable to come up for an idea to explain who she is or why she's here. And then she's rescued by someone calling out, "Merlin, Avery, leave the girl alone." There's something familiar about his voice. Horridly familiar.

Ginny turns around and her face turns ashen. Her stomach lurches, her being teetering on the edge of destruction. There's no way on Earth she could mistake who she sees, the voice she hears. She now realizes exactly why the room sent her back here. Not to her first year at Hogwarts—but to the time from which the horror arose. She stands there dumbfounded.

"Well, hello there," he says, as if he can see right through her disguises. "You would be?"

"G-Ginny," she stammers, unable to look away.

Tall, dark and handsome. But there's a killer beneath the layers of charm and deceit. His dark, bitter eyes plunge into hers, as if he's reading all her secrets. The way he did not very long ago.

"You look lost," he comments, something falsely sweet about the way he talks. Like artificial sugar.

She's entirely breathless. He eyes her with an amused, thin smile and takes her hand gently. It feels cold, manipulative.

"I'll help you," he offers smoothly, his voice seething with the serpentine charm her eleven year old self knew too well.

"I don't... I..." She doesn't know what to do. But, as a stranger in a strange land, she takes her chance. "Thank you."

She can't believe she just thanked the man whose projection tormented her, who grew up to be none other than the Dark Lord Voldemort. But she has to. Sometimes we have no other choice but to trust those who aren't to be trusted.

"You can explain as we walk, Ginny," he says, her name rolling off of his tongue like an intricate poison.

She takes a deep breath and follows him into the castle.

_As this was nothing I'm familiar with writing, reviews are exceptionally appreciated. Thanks so much for reading. :)_


	2. Chapter 2

Ginny follows Tom into the castle, feeling quite dazed and confused.

He has a strange sort of smirk on, something Ginny can't quite explain. His eyes flit around, trying to conceal Ginny from any prying eyes. In a school as large as Hogwarts, it's easy to miss the occasional person, but it is difficult to construct a believable lie. In fact, she's struggling to think of some excuse to give him. She has the strongest feeling that no one will believe she went hurtling through time. And, of all places, to _here_.

"I'm going to hide you, if that's alright." She thinks that even if it wasn't alright he would do it. In her experience, Tom Riddle is a very persuasive young man.

They end up walking down the spiral of stairways, heading to the dungeons. Ginny notices that nothing has truly changed over time. The whole place seems exactly the same, but eerily alien. When they pass the potions room, she doesn't see Severus Snape—instead a rather overweight, distracting looking man. She stares at him before Tom takes her attention away, his hand snaking over to hers and taking it. She lets him hold her, his icy fingers chilling her heated skin. Her hands are still slightly sticky with sweat from running through the Department of Mysteries.

He leads her to a wall, announces a password which Ginny finds most prejudiced, and they are swept into a common room. She can easily tell that it belongs to Slytherins, though she's never been there before. And why would Lord Voldemort _not _be in Slytherin? It seems unfathomable that a man of his nature wouldn't be.

They're alone, save for one girl in the corner, who is absorbed by her textbook. Ginny touches the Gryffindor emblem pinned to her robes.

"Tom, I..." she mumbles, tapping it. He stares at her, bewildered. "I'm a Gryffindor."

"That's not it," he snaps and she flinches. "How do you know my name?"

Ginny blushes almost as red as her hair, her lips opening and closing wordlessly as she tries to figure out something to say. He stares at her intently, expecting a response. His dark eyes make her shiver, the way he seems to stare past her exterior and into her soul. Perhaps it's only the remnant of how he sapped up her life, taking her slowly into him with no intention of letting her out. But it seems as if he could see through every web she wrapped around herself.

"It's a long story," is the best she can think of.

He shrugs.

"You should take that off," he says casually, gesturing at her school robes. "I'll get you a different one."

Ginny sits down on the sofa, feeling quite uncomfortable. She's never been in the common room or dormitory of any House besides Gryffindor before. Harry once told her that he came down here—back in her first year. She asked him, quite shyly, if he would tell her everything she missed, and learn how he had saved her. Because he did save her. Ginny's over him now, though. She loved him more than anything in the world—but he broke her heart one too many times. Personally, she can do better. Much better. Not that she needs a man. Okay, maybe she wants a boyfriend, but no way in Hell does she need one.

Tom is gone in almost an instant, leaving her to herself. She struggles with her pin, trying to remove it from her robes. It's futile. She reaches for her wand and with a quick spell it removes itself. For some reason, she feels as if she's removing a part of herself, and sinking into yet another game with Tom Riddle.

She's obsessing over this, she realizes. Someone as tough as Ginny Weasley cannot be beaten by her own worried thoughts. What she needs to do is find Dumbledore, and get out of here and back to her own time. They _need _her there.

After leaving her alone for barely a moment, Tom returns with a pin for her. He presses it into her hand and she slips her fingers away as fast as she can. She fastens it to her robes and accepts being a Slytherin for a little while. Not all of them are bad, though she can't think of one off of the top of her head. What they would say if they knew she were a blood traitor...

"So, why don't we play a question game?" Tom suggests with a slight smirk. He sits down in the armchair across from her.

"What kind of question game?" Ginny replies, surprised at the hesitation in her voice. It's like he strips her confidence away. She's bold and brash because she can be, but now she can't. Now she feels eleven again.

"More of an interrogation, I suppose, but I wanted it to sound a little kinder." Ginny laughs a hollow laugh. Voldemort wants to be _kind_. "What? What's so _hilarious_? Do you know something about me I don't?"

"Maybe a little," Ginny says softly, struggling to avoid eye contact. "I know you in the future."

"The future?" He leans back, as if he's intrigued by her.

"Yes," Ginny continues, cutting her losses. "I had a little accident and now I'm stuck here."

"Hmm. Why here of all places, is all I wonder," he murmurs, almost to himself.

"I don't know either. But, the thing is, I just want to get home," she says clearly, summoning more of herself.

"I understand that, of course," he says smoothly, standing and leaning against the fireplace. The flames flicker on his face with an eery glow. "You're very strange, Ginny. An intriguing creature."

"You barely know me," Ginny says sharply.

"But you know me. And _that_, my dear, is enticing."

* * *

Tom has already developed a bit of a fixation with the random flame haired girl who arrived from the future. He finds her utterly fascinating—for the sheer reason that he feels as if she was sent to him. Why else on Earth, when, of all the times for someone to arrive in, she showed up right here, right now? It's like she stumbled right into his footsteps.

And he can tell she knows something about him that he does not. It's evident from the way she looks at him, the way she hesitates, the way she blushes at his words. He can't tell if it's attraction or terror, but Tom is rather used to that response. Arousal and fear are the exact same response, at least biologically.

He hid her to the best of his ability until something can be done. For the night, she stayed in a broom closet, not to her protest for some reason. And in the morning, right now, he wakes and walks into the common room about an hour before most. He opens the door and she steps out, nearly leaping.

"Did you sleep?" he asks curiously, examining her shadowy eyes and sweaty skin.

"How could I?" she snaps, a sudden rise of anger. He smiles, amused by it. "Look, Tom, I need to speak with Albus Dumbledore."

Tom stops dead at that instant, his whole body quieting for a moment. It suddenly changes the twisted mishap of a time traveller stumbling into his arms, and to the only professor who never adored Tom sending someone back. It isn't hard to believe that Dumbledore lives in the future—that he would do something like that.

"Why would you like to?" he asks, the sugary sweetness in his voice unintentionally turning bitter.

"I know him. In the future," she answers and he can tell she's being honest. "I think he's the only one who's still alive I would know. Everyone else here... I've never met. I'm from nineteen-ninety-six, Tom. I don't even know most of these people's names. But Dumbledore? He's a tad hard to forget. What about Minerva McGonagall?"

The last part about Professor McGonagall is tacked on haphazardly. But it intensifies his suspicion. He's seen her once or twice around here, muddling about with Dumbledore. She possibly has something to do with this.

"Alright, Ginny. Alright," he says, weaving some way to make this to his advantage in his mind. "We'll go speak to him now."

* * *

Ginny follows Tom through Hogwarts, breezing through swarms of students. Finally, they walk to what Ginny knows as Professor McGonagall's office. It's barely changed, save for different pictures on the walls. The portraits study Ginny as if she is some alien life form. She feels a bit like it.

Albus Dumbledore emerges and Ginny is shocked. He looks incredibly different—much better, she must say. But he has the exact same glasses over his gentle eyes. They gloss over Tom and land on Ginny focused intently on her. It's as if he knows, or perhaps that's just the feeling she gets from him.

"Who are you?" His words are kind, but he seems very concerned. It's as if he can predict Tom Riddle as his worst enemy.

"My name is Ginny Weasley and I'm from the future."


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: I changed the ending of the last chapter. So, if you have it on alert, you might want to check back and just read the last part. Thank ya._

Albus Dumbledore sits down at his desk, looking perplexed, but not surprised. Ginny can only stare, starting to regret just blurting that out. It escaped from her lips uninvited, but she knew she would have to say it at some point. She glances back at Tom, seeing him leaning against the doorframe. He watches the scene with ever increasing interest, which chills Ginny Weasley to the bone.

"Please, sit down," he offers politely, gesturing towards the chair in front of him.

She sits, crossing her legs. The chair is rickety and creaks under her light weight. She steadies it with her hands, trying to remain focused on the professor. He is, in fact, quite fascinating to her. It's funny how he has changed so much, but how he is still very much the same. His beard is merely greying now, but his eyes still look like they have seen a thousand years.

"Do you feel well?" he inquires and she is startled by the question. The very cryptic professor always manages to surprise her, as predictable as he may seem.

"I'm fine. A little confused, but fine," Ginny says, her confidence rising as she speaks to someone familiar in a non-threatening way.

Dumbledore nods, replying, "That's good. Now, if you would, will you tell me what happened?"

"Well," Ginny says, her toes wriggling within her mary-janes, "I was in the Department of Mysteries."

"The Department of Mysteries? In the Ministry of Magic?" Dumbledore inquires calmly, and Ginny can hear Tom's weight shift as he listens in.

"Yes, professor," Ginny says, her throat suddenly feeling very sore. "And I locked myself in a room to protect myself—I don't think I can tell you from who or why I was there, since it's the future—and I stumbled and wound up in the Forbidden Forest, over fifty years in the past."

There is a long, gravid pause.

Dumbledore adjusts his glasses.

"Well, I suppose we will have to sort this out and get you home," he says smoothly, giving her a reassuring smile. It doesn't do much, but she must say she is grateful to see his smile again. "And Tom?"

"I ran into him on my way in," Ginny explains, the quaver suddenly returning to her voice.

She has never seen Dumbledore look truly concerned before. He always seems collected, no matter the circumstance. But he has lines of worry on his slowly aging face, which only affirms Ginny's silenced fears. Tom Riddle can only mean trouble, but she feels as if she is bound to him. There may, in fact, be no escaping winding herself around him. They're tied together by the past or the future, and it will never cease.

The knots are tight. The rope thick. Even burning the bonds will only destroy both of them.

"Lunch is approaching, Ginny. I suggest you get something to eat, and I will begin to solve this puzzle. When you return after eating, we can make accommodations for the rest of your stay." Stay, he says, as if she is on a holiday, instead of stuck back in time. But she thanks him and leaves, Tom close behind her.

They walk together in complete and utter silence. She feels more unsettled when he is not talking than when he is. And nothing compels her to strike up a conversation. They reach the Great Hall and she ends up walking towards the Gryffindor table. Tom takes her hand and she nearly slaps him, before she realizes that she is wearing a Slytherin pin.

She sits down beside him, and four other people. One is the boy she ran into earlier, the other a slightly younger boy with dark features and an intimidating appearance, the other two a blonde who seems a little younger than all of them, beside who seems to be her older brother or cousin. The obviously related boy reminds her of Draco Malfoy, save for blue eyes instead of grey.

"This is Ginny," Tom says fluidly and they all pay attention to him. It seems that they are afraid to even avert their eyes for an instant.

"Hello, Ginny," the girl says, smiling at her. There's something a bit wicked about it, but Ginny tries to silence her thoughts. Generalizing these people makes her just as prejudiced and bigoted as them. "I'm Druella."

She extends her hand and shakes Ginny's. Druella's handshake is flighty and light, while Ginny presses down like a business man. It feels quite awkward.

Her brother is Rosier, one Lestrange, the other Avery. Two were at the Ministry with her. She almost laughs when she thinks that it is entirely Avery's fault that she ended up here in the first place. But she tries to fit in, though it sickens her to the core. She finds herself a moral person—save when something needs to be done—but her only hope is to survive.

* * *

Ginny returns to Dumbledore's office promptly after barely eating. She managed to shake off Tom for a moment, though it seems as if he would follow her to the grave. He has this sick sense of _entitlement_. Tom Riddle is absolutely not _entitled _to her, nor is she some divine gift to his godlike opinion of himself. She knows she would just be a pawn again, like she was all those years ago.

He's not bad looking, though. Wait. Did Ginny just think that? Ugh. She's going batty already.

She raps on the door once and hears, "Come in."

She enters to see Dumbledore with several books open and his wand resting in the open pages of one of them. He still looks relaxed, but there is a faint hint of a frazzled aura about him. She sits down in the chair once more, trying to keep it quiet.

"I'm sorry to admit that so far I haven't been able to find much," he says apologetically, yet with hope in his voice. She could use some of that. "I will hope to get you back to your time as promptly as possible."

"Thank you so much, professor," she says, managing a grin.

"I suppose your new friends will be able to give you a place to sleep tonight." Her smile falters. He seems to notice. "Is that acceptable?"

"Yes, professor," she replies instantly, though she feels as if she may regret it.

"Good." He still appears doubtful. "You may wait in the library or do as you wish until later. I sincerely hope we can solve your problem. I do have a feeling it can be fixed. A wild guess of course."

"If I know you, professor, your wild guesses tend to be right."

* * *

Ginny has possibly read half of the library by now. The books are getting dull and tiresome now that she's gotten the fun ones out of the way. After exhausting the books on quidditch and unicorns, she simply lies in an armchair and flips through boring pages of small print. She sniffles in occasionally, a substantial amount of dust in here.

Someone approaches her, a book under her arm. It's Druella Rosier. She waves lightly and then sits down on the sofa, examining Ginny closely.

"Where are you from? Tom didn't bother to tell me," Druella says with a yawn, reclining on her back.

"I don't know if I can tell you myself." Silence.

"You're quite strange, you know?" Druella says smoothly, closing her baby blue eyes.

"Why do you think I'm so weird?" Ginny asks, mildly offended.

"Just pretty much everything about you. It's as if you showed up from the future or something. The past?" Druella sneezes, thrusting her whole body forward.

"I suppose you'll have to find out."

* * *

Ginny sits in the common room, which is very cold. The autumn wind seems to pierce through the windowless, stone walls of the fortress. She's alone, having been unable to let herself sleep. Anything could happen as a stranger in a strange land.

The fire crackles, but barely warms the room. A little water drips from the ceiling. _Plip, plip, plunk, plip, plunk_... it's hypnotic and torturous at the same time.

Someone walks down the stairs and she jumps. It's Tom.

"Oh," he says, seeming startled to see her. It feels as if he was sneaking out with hopes of not being caught. "I see no one can sleep tonight."

She can't tell if what he says is truthful or deceitful. He says everything so sweetly, so superficially charming. Even when lying to her face, she doesn't know if she would fully be able to differentiate. It's like he's a monster, but a very beautiful, articulate one.

"Yeah," she replies and he sits down beside her. She feels a chill worse than that of the stone common room.

"How exactly do you know me in the future?" Tom breathes, turning to face her. The chill turns to heat.

"It's a long story," she says softly and he looks annoyed.

"I think we have time." He's somehow even closer to her. She can feel his breath on her freckled skin. It feels like the winds of the eye of the storm. It threatens danger, but has a certain caress to it.

"I think you don't want to know," she whispers as he touches her arm, sliding his hand down to her leg. His hand rests on her thigh and she wants to throw it off, but they're so alone, and he's killed more people than all past dark wizards compiled.

"Am I dead or something?" he asks and Ginny bites her lip to suppress laughter.

"No. You're very, very alive."

He presses his lips against hers.

_A/N: Yes. It really picks up in the next chapter. The plot begins and such. I'm actually totally sticking to this story, so reviews are so, so appreciated._


	4. Chapter 4

Ginny is drawn into the kiss of Tom Riddle.

For a moment, he holds her there, she too startled by it to move. But, in an instant, she realizes what's happening and throws him off of her. He hits the lamp, which falls to the floor, the candle snapping in half and wax sprinkling across the stone floor. She shakes, quavering as he lies there in shock, eyes focused on hers. Shaking her head, she steps backwards, fumbling over a textbook and clinging onto the back of a chair to hold herself upright.

Before he can say a word, she runs off, pushing open the exit to the Slytherin common room and walking down the cold hallways. Her feet slip and slide on the cool puddles, but she merely wraps her arms around herself and walks endlessly. Endless, nameless, dazed, confused. She can't believe what he just did.

She can still recall the intricate dance of being drawn into the arms of his image, his spirit and soul. But, she never imagined the forcefulness of his kiss. It was like a poison seeped through her body from the contact, the venom broiling her blood.

Part of her says she liked it, and the other part says _I agree_.

But that's sick and twisted. The Dark Lord Voldemort. The Dark Lord Voldemort. With his lips on hers, his attention focused on her shaking form in the midnight hours. She can only spin in circles, walking through the familiar halls.

She trips and falls, knocking herself onto the floor. The pain is nothing, after falling off a broomstick and being beaten up by her brothers enough times. But the symbolism of it hurts. She's fallen hard and fast and is now trapped with no escape.

Ginny has always been afraid of being trapped and held down. Small spaces, crowded places, locked doors—all of them make her concerned. She wants to see the vast expanse of the sky above her, and freedom. But she is the very opposite of free. She is ensnared in the time that haunts her most.

"Ginny." She hears him behind her and she leaps up, nearly hitting the wall. He grabs her arm and pulls her to face him. "What was that?"

She spits in his face.

He recoils from her and she stumbles. His wand is pointed at the bridge of her nose, but she doesn't think she cares. They stand there, face to face in the dim lights of the dungeon hallways. After a moment of her heart being frozen, he lowers his wand.

"I'm sorry." His apology is entirely empty. She doesn't think he could be sorry for something in his life.

"You should be," she snaps and his dark eyes flicker. She doesn't think he likes her very much anymore. But she refuses to be his pet or his attraction.

"Now, should we return to the common room before things get out of hand?" he suggests, though it reeks of an order.

"Yeah," she replies, though it's sharp and bitter.

They walk together down the hallway without a word, rounding the corner and murmuring the password. And, before they're caught out, they walk into the common room, where Ginny returns to the sofa. It's where she hides during the day, locked in the snake pit with a stone covering the top. All she wants is to make it home.

He returns to his dormitory.

* * *

Ginny dumps her schoolbooks on her bed, sifting through them to pack her worn leather bag for her first day. _Standard Book of Spells_, _A Beginner's Guide to Potent Potions—_wait—what's this? It's an old diary, bound tightly, the pages slightly yellowed. When she touches it, it's cold, but feels oddly warm. It's like it's calling out to her, but that sounds very silly.

It has a faded year on it—_1942_. She runs her fingertips across it.

On the first page, it reads _T.M. Riddle_. Very strange that she should have someone else's diary in her school supplies. She takes it and sets it tenderly on her pillow before returning to packing up.

The next day, she returns to her common room quite huffily. It's been tiresome, and the last class of her day was potions. It was just as bad as her brothers make it out to be. School is phenomenal, of course, much better than the past ten years of sitting at home, but it has been quite the adventure.

She flops down on her bed and her head hits something. Grumbling to herself, she sits up and finds the diary she had thrown there casually earlier. She picked it up, rummaged around for a quill and sat with her legs crossed, the book on her lap.

Opening it, she dips her quill tip in ink and writes_, "Dear diary, my name is Ginny Weasley_."

She pauses to think about what to say next—she's never had a diary, for fear her brother's would mock her, or, worse, _read it_. But, in that split second that she waits, her ink fades. Blossoming on the page is spindly handwriting, very old looking.

_Well, hello, Ginny Weasley._

* * *

Ginny is woken by her alarm spell in the wee hours of the morning. She had strange dreams about butterflies and hurricanes, along with some kind of agony inspired by an unseen force. She gets up and glances around, glad to see no one is up yet. She has to keep hidden at all costs.

This morning, she decides to go for a walk. It's not like she can get in trouble, anyway. She isn't even an enrolled student—though thankfully no one has noticed yet. She exits the common room and meanders her way to the entrance of the school. The towering doors have an open spot in them, like a cat door. She walks through it and onto the familiar grounds.

It's beautiful in autumn. The leaves billow in the wind, blowing about the campus. She wanders about, walking towards the lake. The surface waves and washes, ebbs and flows, in the early morning wind. The dew on the grass douses the tips of her muddy robes.

She does quite like to walk.

* * *

Ginny had sat under a tree and drawn pictures for hours today. They were very terrible, seeing as she was never an artist. Trees, butterflies, snaking vines and petty veins. Afterwards, she walked into the school and sat down for lunch beside Tom and his friends. There were three more people there with him, who stared at Ginny for the longest time, wondering where on Earth she popped up from.

His friends seem more frightened of him than people are in modern times.

He evades looking at her too long after the kiss. It's possible he feels guilty, but she highly doubts it. It's far more likely that he's just embarrassed. Or cross with her. Who knows?

After lunch, Ginny starts walking to the library. Tom follows her. She hangs back, standing beside him as they wander together.

"What am I like in the future?" Tom asks casually as they open the doors to the chilly, dusty room.

Ginny hesitates.

"I don't know how to describe it." That's not a lie.

"Try," he purrs, sitting down in one of the lounge chairs. Ginny sits across from him.

"Formidable." She has nothing else to say.

He seems to like that. It's evident in his expression that she just brightened his day. How disgusting. Why is it that her eyes linger on him, eyeing him like she wants him, when he's such a repulsive person? It's so horrid. Did the room in the Ministry want her to fall for him or something? Or just to torture her.

Tom gets up and starts walking through the shelves, leaving Ginny alone. She tries her best to think of ways to escape, but none come to her. It seems that there is no way on Earth to leave this place. Perhaps the room will pull her back? Has Professor Dumbledore grown any nearer to discovering? She's a little girl lost.

* * *

Ginny looks at the book Tom has in his hand on their way to his next class and her time spent outside. It reads, _The Life and Times of Salazaar Slytherin_.

As they walk in the hallway, she hears an eerily familiar voice. There have been a few—professors mostly. But when she turns, she sees a hulking teenager, probably a little younger than her, but far bigger. Her eyes light up in glee when she recognizes him—Hagrid. She wants to run over and hug him, but how would she explain who she is?

Still, for some reason, it gives her a little bit of hope.

* * *

Ginny is pretending to be sleeping on the sofa when someone walks downstairs. It's Tom. She feels anxious for a moment, as if he will violate her in her sleep. He glances at her, with a strange look in his eyes, and then exits the common room.

She stares after him with her eyes half closed.

The next morning, there's a commotion. Ginny wakes on the sofa and his practically dragged out by students. They're all whispering and pointing, tugging at each other. She follows, racing after them. They reach a hallway upstairs, right in the way of most student's classes.

There's a crowd and a collective murmur, like bees. Her heart starts palpitating as she predicts what comes next.

After pushing herself forward, she looks on the wall. It's dripping with blood. She can feel it on her hands, though there is none there.

It reads: _The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the heir, beware._

Before Ginny can even faint, someone grabs her arms and pulls her from the crowd.


End file.
